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Home Presentation for Yom Kippur Symposium 5764, October 6, 2003
One of the things that I get to do as Sisterhood President is attend the conversion ceremonies. As I watch the quiet joy of the new Jews by conscious and deliberate choice, I have been struck by how much they have had to study and to learn to attain something that I take so much for granted. I rarely think about being Jewish - it's just something that is part of my being; something that is always “there.” But in thinking - worrying - about this talk, I realized that Judaism always has provided a framework and a model for much that I do, even outside formal religious activities.
I grew up in Springfield, IL, part of a relatively small Reform Jewish community called Temple B'rith Sholom. My parents were not particularly observant at home, even though my mother came from an Orthodox family in Mobile, AL (the kind of pragmatic southern Orthodox family that did not consider shrimp and crab as being against the dietary regulations). As I look back, I see that even without a lot of formal tradition, their essential identity was with their Judaism. Their closest friends were Jewish, and I was only supposed to date Jewish boys. Try that in a small Jewish community where you've grown up with these boys and known them forever! They didn't want to date me … and I didn't want to date them. I realize at that time, my parents chose to surround themselves with Jews and Judaism, because being Jewish was an identity that was - or had been when they were younger -- also imposed on them in the wider world. Both of my parents had encountered anti-Semitism, so they were most comfortable keeping a lot of their personal world Jewish. I could understand that, because it was still the time when there was a fancy (for Springfield) country club where they didn't allow Jews as members and when the socially snobbish family of a non-Jewish boy that I did date briefly was uncomfortable even with the casual relationship. As a result, my parents both were totally involved in the Temple and the Jewish community as volunteers - my mother was active in Hadassah and served on the Sisterhood board in several different positions; my father was on the Temple board and on the board of the Anti-Defamation League and was president of the Jewish Federation. They set an example for me. So, when I went away to college, I joined Hillel and then became a Hillel officer. Volunteering to become involved with a Jewish organization was the way I chose to meet people and to find my comfort zone in a new environment.
And so Judaism - and volunteerism -- remained a constant as my life continued. I married and had two children Adam and Mara and lived in a similar community in Champaign, IL. I was active in Hadassah and served as on the Sisterhood board and ultimately as Sisterhood President, and my husband taught Sunday School and was on the Temple board. Our children went through the usual life-cycle events at the Reform congregation in Champaign. Our closest friends were Jewish. And I was also an active volunteer in the wider community, where I was on the board of the local Planned Parenthood Association and volunteered as a medical social worker in the public hospital emergency room before the hospital hired a social worker for the ER.
But then my husband and I had problems and decided to separate. About the same time, I was job-hunting while completing a Masters degree in Library Science. I was offered a job at the Health Science Center here, and before I even moved to San Antonio, I joined this congregation and registered my daughter for Sunday School. I was confident that once again, my Judaism would be the ideal vehicle through which I would meet people, have the opportunity to continue to be active as a volunteer, and become comfortable in this new community. And Rabbi Murray Rothman of blessed memory, from Newton, MA, who was a close friend of my brother's, contacted Rabbi Stahl to tell him about us. So when I met Rabbi Stahl, it totally surprised me that he already knew who I was.
I have to say, though, as welcoming as Rabbi Stahl and Rabbi Block were, it took a while to settle in. Initially, I didn't find the congregation particularly welcoming, and although my daughter soon became totally involved with SAFTY and TOFTY and became immersed in the congregation through her activities and her friends, I didn't find a niche for myself within the Jewish community, especially with Sisterhood, because at that time, all of the Sisterhood meetings were daytime meetings. I work at the Medical Center. I couldn't take the time to attend regular meetings. I didn't join Sisterhood or volunteer elsewhere in the Jewish community. Nor did I seek out another volunteer opportunity that suited me, as I had done in Champaign - I didn't work hard enough, obviously, because there are certainly many, many options for satisfying a need to volunteer in San Antonio and many organizations that desperately need volunteers.
One of the things that I did do was to join the Jewish singles group. Through that group, I met a very special man named Julio Levy. We were married in 1993. Unfortunately, in 1996, Julio was diagnosed with prostate cancer. It was a very aggressive cancer, and he died in 1998.
Several months later - when I was really, really desperate for some outside activities, David vanAbbema fortuitously called and invited me to join Shir Chadash, the Jewish choir that was briefly supported by the JCC, and then the Temple's volunteer choir. Through the Temple choir, I met Elaine Kovner, who invited me to join the Sisterhood choir that sings at the annual Sisterhood service. I didn't feel like I could participate in the choir without joining Sisterhood - and by this time, Sisterhood was holding some meetings in the evening or on Sundays - so I joined. I really needed a volunteer outlet by this time, too, so when the nominating committee asked me to join the Sisterhood board, first as a Director and then as a Vice-President, I said yes. And I met a remarkable group of hard-working women: women who work full-time and women who are stay-at-home moms, women who have young children and women who are retired, married women, single women, divorced women, widows - women who give their valuable and precious volunteer time to this organization because they believe in it. And - just like in Champaign -- I once again found an organization that in turn, strives to reach out to all of them and to become a medium for their desire to serve the Jewish community and also to become a source for each woman to nurture her own desire for “sisterhood.” And I made some wonderful friends. So, when I was asked to be President this year, I gulped hard and said yes.
I know that I could have found other very satisfying volunteer niches outside the Jewish community. I have seen remarkable Jewish people like Helen Jacobson, the Goodmans, Barbie Gorelick, Rabbi Block, and so many more who do this. Time and health permitting in the future, I hope that I will do more outside the Temple and the Jewish Community. I can't imagine that I won't always welcome the opportunity to give a little time and gain a lot more from the experience. But at this time, my own interests, a few skills, and the inability to say “no,” have led me back to Sisterhood. It's an honor. So I would say that the desire to be an active volunteer is one of the most important gifts that Judaism has given to me. We all know the importance of “tzedakah.” And tzedakah takes many forms. For me, it's not just a question of giving money, but also committing time and effort to something that is important to me. It was modeled by my parents, and I hope that my activities will also serve as an example for my children.
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